The Last Great Secret
by aadixon
Summary: Voldermort has won. Rebellions remain however, the Ministry, the school, and soon the whole of the wizarding world would be his. Only one last task remained for the Dark Lord and it could either save or destroy him. Set after the Battle of Hogwarts. AU; No Slash
1. Into The Darkness

**The Last Great Secret**

**Chapter One: Into The Darkness**

Gregory pushed through the front door and slammed it behind him, a copy of the Daily Prophet rolled and tucked under his arm. He was a young man, tall with jet black hair and brilliant blue eyes. He grunted as the oil lamps that hung in the hallway of the tiny flat sprang to life. Tired and dirty, he removed his traveling cloak and hung it on a brass coat hook next to the door then stumped his way to the kitchen.

Gregory laid the folded up paper on the oak top table and proceeded to the basin to wash up. As he opened taps to wash, he reached up and propped opened the window to let a bit of fresh air in. The air was stuffy inside for it had been many days since anyone had been there. The dirt was caked on his hands so it took a bit of scrubbing to find clean skin. Digging by hand was not heard of in the wizarding world but it was too risky to use magic now...

After washing, Gregory took a seat at the table and unfolded the paper then began to read. Almost immediately his heart sank at the headline, _Ministry Exonerates Lord Voldermort:_

_As previously reported, after Lord Voldermort's heroics at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry which saved countless lives, the Ministry of Magic exonerated him today stating that "Lord Voldermort's actions should wipe away any doubt that his intentions are for nothing but the greater good of all wizarding kind. Furthermore, any previous allegations against Lord Voldermort have been verified as false." Ministry spokesperson, Delores Umbridge, further stated that the Ministry is pleased to announce that Lord Voldermort has graciously accepted the position of Advisor to the Ministry. As for Undesirable Number One, Harry Potter, the Ministry stated that he was in custody and awaiting trial in Azkaban._

Gregory threw the paper across the table and into the fireplace. With a flick of his wand, a roaring fire burst to life inside the grate. He could stand no more. Lord Voldermort was a murderer, a devil with a heart as dark as death. He had saved no lives that day, taken plenty, tortured countless, but saved none. Gregory knew for he was there at Hogwarts; there when Lord Voldermort and his followers slaughtered the resistance; there when the killing curse was not enough; there when Lord Voldermort, with a single swipe of his wand, slayed twenty wizards at once before spilling the blood of the defenseless supporters and friends of Harry Potter. As for Harry Potter in Azkaban, this lie was meant for those who survived that fateful day, as a reminder of the power of Lord Voldermort. For those who were there knew that Harry Potter was not in Azkaban but dead; saw his lifeless body carried up to the castle by Hagrid; saw his corpse rise high into the air before bursting into flames at the hand of Lord Voldermort; heard the cackle of merciless laughter as the courtyard ran red with blood.

"Did you read the whole paper before you burnt it?" asked a wizard in a painting on the wall behind Gregory.

"What's the use? Wrought with nothing but lies." replied Gregory as he laid his head on the table.

"Remember Gregory, even in lies can we sometimes find the truth, hidden though it is." replied the wizard in the painting.

"What's the use!" said Gregory lifting his head up as he slammed his fists on the table. "It's over! _You Know Who_ has won and your puppet has failed, Dumbledore!"

"If he has won then why do you not call him by his name?" asked Dumbledore. Gregory did not answer but sat silently, looking at his fists. "If you do not call his name then you believe that there is a reason to remain hidden."

"And what would you wish for me to do?" asked Gregory standing up and facing the painting.

"Simply to be honest with yourself and realize that this is not the end but rather a slight interlude. Yes, my plan did not go as I had wished however, not all do."

"What's your point?" screamed Gregory.

Dumbledore peered at Gregory from his painting over his half moon spectacles and calmly replied, "My point is that all is not lost until everyone truly believes it so."

"All is not lost? _You Know Who_ has been proclaimed the hero and all that followed him and wore masks now walk about freely doing as they please while I must walk in shadows. They persecute and torture all whom have ever supported Harry Potter or the Order. Muggle killings are so common that the muggle ministry has declared the mysterious deaths as some kind of unknown disease or plague, causing many to depart Britain in fear. Many witches and wizards dare not use magic outside their own residence for concern that a Misuse of Magic charge will be levied against them and their wands confiscated. For the past week I and a few others have been sneaking back onto the grounds of Hogwarts to retrieve the bodies of those that _You Know Who_ said their bones would litter the ground of the school to serve as a reminder of what happened to all that stood against him. The Statute of Secrecy will probably fall at any moment and you say, not all is lost." said Gregory falling back into his chair, tears forming in his eyes.

"I admit that things are bleak however, hope can form in the strangest of places." said Dumbledore softly. "Didn't you say that Neville Longbottom cut off the head of _You Know Who's_ snake?"

"Lot of good that proved! Never seen such carnage as what followed." replied Gregory. "After _You Know Who_ drove the sword clean to it's hilt into Longbottom's chest he turned and slayed twenty charging wizards with one swipe of his wand. His rage broke on all who were near. I've never witnessed anything like that before nor do I wish to again."

"Longbottom proved that you never can tell in whom bravery, courage, and leadership dwells until it is needed." said Dumbledore quietly. "You, Gregory, must calm the remaining members of the Order and rally them about you."

Gregory scoffed, "Of coarse! Anyone would follow the great Gregory Smith!"

"Not Gregory Smith but maybe, just maybe they would follow Gregory Dumbledore." said Dumbledore.

Gregory jeered, "Oh good, for a moment I thought you weren't concerned for my safety! Have you gone mad!"

"Hear me out Gregory-" started Dumbledore but Gregory cut across him.

"No! You listen to me!" thundered Gregory rising to his feet. "You didn't see what they did to Abeforth, did you? They brutally beat him before they murdered him, all because he was your brother. What do you think they would do to me? All these years I have been a Smith, on your orders, and now you wish for me to proclaim my true heritage or do you feel that the Ministry needs a new Undesirable Number One?"

Dumbledore sighed, "When you are ready to listen, I will continue." Gregory stood there but did not say a thing so Dumbledore continued. "You have carried the name of Smith all these years for your protection and I do not wish for that to change now."

"Then what are you proposing?" asked Gregory calmly.

"Simply this, gather members of the Order that you can trust beyond all doubt and swear them to an Oath of Secrecy. Once they have sworn, reveal to them your true identity, then lay out your plan to continue the fight." said Dumbledore pacing in his frame.

"What plan?" asked Gregory sarcastically.

"The one you and I will devise together, of coarse." replied Dumbledore. "I am sure that by entrusting them with your secret and unveiling a great plan to undermine _You Know Who_ and the Ministry will fill therm with hope and they will rally around you. Their hope will be contagious and will encourage many more to take up the cause and fight."

"One tiny flaw there Dumbledore," said Gregory folding his arms and bowing his head "it's not the resistance that will be punished by _You Know Who_, it's their families and friends that will be tortured and murdered. I'm sorry but no one will risk this."

"True, if they feel exposed. Remember, the Death Eaters wore masks for a reason." replied Dumbledore.

"Masks? You wish for us to wear masks, Dumbledore?" asked Gregory looking up in disbelief.

"Yes. There is goblin by the name of Gormoth that can help with my design, he owes me greatly." said Dumbledore speaking swiftly. "However, we will deal that detail later, for now there's the matter of how to do this. You see, the Ministry must be made to fear the Order, be hesitant to do anything for fear of retaliation. And yet the masses must support us, yes, we must gain their trust."

"I can see the mad wheels beginning to spin however, might I interject a thought?" asked Gregory inquisitively.

"But of coarse! After all, this is _your_ plan." said Dumbledore giving a bow.

"This sounds like another _Boy Who Lived_ bit and I want no part of such." said Gregory. "We both know you staged that."

"I did nothing of the sort!" replied Dumbledore indignantly. "I merely fought with what I was dealt. I neither planned nor perpetrated any such thing!"

"You could have dispelled the thought when Snape came to you. Your influence over _You Know Who_ was great enough then to have changed his mind. Don't tell me your great mind could not have devised a way to have stopped him." said Gregory easing himself back into his chair, still facing Dumbledore's painting.

"It would have been either the Potters or the Longbottoms. _You Know Who_ fears death too greatly to risk any vulnerability. The moment he heard there was a prophesy, it was only a matter of time, no matter the family." said Dumbledore.

"And now their all dead. The Potters and the Longbottoms, both families dead." said Gregory. "Both children you so longed to protect dead on the same day at the hands of _You Know Who_!"

"I just don't understand what went wrong!" said Dumbledore, his eyes closed tightly.

"What went wrong?" replied Gregory. "This isn't chess Dumbledore! There are no do overs!"

"Life isn't about how you fall but how you rise, Gregory!" said Dumbledore, opening his eyes and glaring.

"Don't see you rising again anytime soon." said Gregory softly.

"I rise in you." said Dumbledore simply.

Changing the subject, Dumbledore averted back to the previous topic, "Both Longbottom and Potter weakened _You Know Who_ before their passing and we must capitalize on this." he said. "He fought like a wounded lion that day because he was just that, wounded, weakened. We cannot allow him to regain his strength."

"For the sake of argument, let's say I go along with this mad plan of yours, how then do we defeat him?" asked Gregory.

"The answer to that riddle will reveal itself to us in due time. For now we must fight until that day." replied Dumbledore.

"Statements like that sometimes make me wish what that Skeeter woman wrote about you was true." said Gregory heaving hard.

Dumbledore chuckled, "The truth was there, just a bit mucked up to suit her needs. Now then, we must settle on a coarse of action and I believe that Mr. Longbottom provided us with that answer."

"If it includes a sword, I'll pass." said Gregory indignantly, crumpling his nose.

"I mean how he caused so much havoc at the school in Harry's absence. He turned the place over with confusion and brought great grief to _You Know Who's_ followers, so much in fact that they feared him." said Dumbledore. "His mistake was not concealing his identity."

"Then the Order is dead." said Gregory. Dumbledore's shock at this turned to joy when Gregory finished, "Long live Dumbledore's Army."

* * *

A woman wept on her knees as her husband laid gasping for breath on the ornate carpet that covered the stone floor of the manor house. Lord Voldermort stood there observing the two with disgust. Pity was something that he never truly had. All those years in the muggle orphanage had taught him that this was a weakness; a weakness Lord Voldermort could not stand.

"You knew before I killed him, didn't you." said Voldermort in his high merciless tone.

The man on the floor said nothing while the woman wept harder. Bellatrix Lestrange stood in the corner of the room and cleared her throat as if she was about to speak but Voldermort held up a ghostly white hand and she fell silent, her eyes sunk to the floor.

"What say you now, Lucius?" asked Voldermort as he twirled the Elder wand between his long fingers.

Lucius raised his head from the floor, drew another gasping breath then cried, "I hate you! Damn you to hell!"

There was a flash of green light and Lucius Malfoy moved no more. Another flash and Narcissa fell beside him, her eyes wide but unseeing. Voldermort glanced at Bellatrix who stood frozen, paralyzed by what she saw. Another flash of green light and Bellatrix Lestrange fell to the floor with a thud. Voldermort had learned that love, no matter the form, was dangerous and not to be trusted. Other Death Eaters in the room fled for the door, not wishing to be next. They need not worry though, for he had done what he came to do.

Voldermort looked around thinking of the esteem that the House of Black had once had for him and he for them. How as a child at Hogwarts he had longed to be part of such a family. That was, of coarse, before he knew his true blood line; his Slytherin line; before he had found the Chamber of Secrets and unlocked the deepest veins of magic.

A tiny silver cup sat on a shelf in the corner. He stepped over the bodies of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, strolled over to the shelf, and examined the cup. It reminded him of his horcruxes and what the _Boy Who Lived_ had cost him. His precious connections to immortality erased by Dumbledore and the Potter boy yet they had failed, as he knew they would. He held the tiny cup close to his face and saw his reflection, pearly white, and his mouth curved into a smile. He would do better this time.

Voldermort sat the tiny cup back onto the shelf then strode up the stairs to the second floor and proceeded down a long hallway. As he glided down the hallway he glanced at the many portraits that adorned the walls, they in turn stared at him. He was searching for something, something within the portraits. At last, Voldermort stopped in front of the portrait of a thin blond haired woman.

"Amelia Black." said Voldermort softly.

The woman took one hard look into Voldermort's face then turned her face away.

"What is this?" asked Voldermort silkily as he touched the side of the frame with a single long white finger. "Didn't you one time profess to me that _you would never_ forsake me and _now_ you cannot even _look_ at me?"

"The man I said that to is dead." replied Amelia Black still refusing to look at him.

"I am not dead, for here I stand before you." said Voldermort in a mock tone of surprise, giving a slight bow.

"You are _not_ Tom Riddle. I would have done _anything_ for him." replied Amelia.

"Alas, my dear, Tom Riddle never truly existed. There has always been, only, Lord Voldermort." said Voldermort softly.

"Then what I said meant nothing." replied Amelia.

"Meant nothing? Are you to say, love? Love? Foolish girl! I never loved you. You knew who I was and what I had to do." said Voldermort coldly.

"I knew you never loved me. I only hoped that, maybe one day..." said Amelia, her voice trailing away.

Voldermort leaned in close to the frame, "Do not misunderstand me," whispered Voldermort "I did desire you. After your death there were many a night that I longed for your touch, to feel your skin and to smell your hair."

Amelia's portrait visibly shivered and she folded her arms, placing her hands on her shoulders.

"Answer me this," whispered Voldermort "if you had the chance to live again, would you?"

"What I did in my death, I would not change." replied Amelia.

Voldermort backed away from her portrait. He stared at her, his eyes narrowing. Apprehension filled his face.

"What did you do?" asked Voldermort softly in his most dangerous tone, tilting his head to one side.

"What I told you I would one day do." replied Amelia simply as she turned to stare at him.

Voldermort's eyes narrowed until they were only slits, his face contorted in concentration. He touched a single finger to his forehead as he meditated. Suddenly, his eyelids flew open, the scarlet, snake like eyes burned red with understanding and he lowered his hand so that he could clearly see her face.

When Voldermort spoke, he did quietly so that he seemed to hiss, "And what became of the child?"

Amelia did not answer him but continued to stare, arms folded in defiance.

"You cannot hide him from me, Amelia. I will find him." said Voldermort with an heir of finality.

"Are you sure you want to?" asked Amelia staring into his eyes.

Voldermort did not answer but turned and swiftly departed the hallway. As he descended the staircase, a new purpose began to fill him. The school, the Ministry, and soon the whole of the wizarding world would belong to him but this was something, like the quest for the Elder wand, he must do alone. He did not even glance at the bodies of Lucius, Narcissa, or Bellatrix for they were no longer necessary; they, like his horcruxes, had failed him.

Voldermort departed Malfoy Manor, Death Eaters falling back at his presence. He was now filled with only one thought, find Amelia Black's child. He passed through the front gate and stopped. Immediately, Snape approached, stopping at a distance, and bowed low.

"My Lord, we await your command." said Snape as he continued to bow.

"Ah, Severus, just whom I wish to see. I have a task for you to perform for me and I wish it remain private." said Voldermort.

"What is it that you require of me, my Lord?" asked Snape still bowing.

"I wish for you to search the Malfoy house and bring to me anything you find concerning Amelia Black, then once you are done, demolish this place. I want nothing left except burning cinders." said Voldermort, eyes shut and his head lifted towards the night sky.

"Amelia Black, my Lord?" asked Snape, lifting his face to peer at his master.

"Yes, she was Narcissa and Bellatrix's aunt. Go to the Ministry when you are done and search out all known residences for her. Do nothing else nor tell anyone what you doing, except that it is on _my_ orders. I will be at the school." said Voldermort softly. "Now go."

"Yes, my Lord." said Snape then turned and departed Voldermort unto the Malfoy house.

Voldermort opened his eyes as he lifted into the air then, as smoke on the wind, he was gone.


	2. Commitment And Vows

**The Last Great Secret**

**Chapter Two: Commitment And Vows**

Voldermort examined the many silvery objects that still lined the shelves of the Headmaster's office. The skillful works of many a Headmaster or Headmistress was not lost on him. Voldermort valued such skills, for it was such skills as these that once created the Elder wand, which he now possessed, or the Sword of Gryffindor, which sat perched on two metal hands in a glass case to his right. Voldermort glided over to the sword's case, then opened it and lightly ran a solitary finger along the sword's exposed edge, the blade still as sharp as the day it was forged. The blood of the Longbottom boy remained dried upon the blade, as he had requested. It was to be a reminder to all who looked upon it of that fateful day. Voldermort, however, noticed that some of the blood had vanished from the hilt.

There was a single knock on the office door. Voldermort did not turn to look but merely called, "You may enter, Severus."

Snape entered the office calmly, eying the portraits that hung on the walls, many of which were currently vacant. He walked over to the Headmaster's desk and sat a leather bag in the center then bowed low.

"I have brought what you asked for, my Lord." said Snape, not looking up.

"And what of Malfoy Manor?" asked Voldermort, not bothering to look at Snape as he glided to the desk to inspect the package.

"It has been burnt to the ground as you requested, my Lord." replied Snape.

As Voldermort examined the contents he realized that the portrait of Amelia was not present. He imagined that it had been left inside Malfoy Manor, Snape not knowing whom she was. His mouth formed into what resembled a smile at the thought of it burning to ashes. She was never worthy of him and her last great betrayal proved this.

"Is this all that you could find, Severus?" asked Voldermort.

"Yes, my Lord. This is all that was in the manor house and on record at the Ministry." replied Snape, daring a glance up.

"You may rise, Severus." said Voldermort and Snape stood up strait. "And to think I once thought that you had betrayed me, for _youare_ my most loyal and trusted servant."

"Thank you, my Lord. I only live to serve you." said Snape, lifting his chin.

"You will serve me here but a bit longer, Severus, for you are too valuable to me to remain a mere Headmaster. Once I have completed reforming the wizarding world, thus establishing our place as the superior race above the muggles, I will require your services in a more substantial role." said Voldermort as he examined the parchments Snape had brought to him.

Snape bowed his head, "Thank you, my Lord. I will not fail you."

"Now, there are things that I must tend to here at the school, alone. See that all the inhabitants of the school depart, I do not care where you send them, then report to our new headquarters and await my instruction." said Voldermort, as he stared into Snape's black eyes.

"As you wish, my Lord." replied Snape.

Without another word, Snape left the Headmaster' office, closing the door behind him. Voldermort glided over to the large array of cabinets, which opened as he approached, where the pensive was kept. A hundred tiny bottles were stored on revolving shelves, each inscribed in Dumbledore's thin slanted handwriting with the name of the memories they held. Voldermort remembered the night he visited the school so that he could hide Ravenclaw's Diadem, his horcrux that only a few weeks ago was destroyed by the Potter boy. Dumbledore had been adding a memory to the pensive when he arrived to inquire for the post of Defense Against The Dark Arts, a post he never truly expected to receive. There had been a time that Voldermort would have destroyed the pensive and every tiny bottle within these cabinets. Now, he understood the power that other's memories held and the unmeasurable wealth of knowledge they possessed.

Voldermort, however, had no time to sort through the many memories stored in the cabinet. One day he would, but for now it was what shared the cabinet with the pensive that he desired. A tiny black chest, no bigger than a man's hand, sat just below the pensive on a lower shelf. Voldermort grasped the tiny chest then lifted it out of the cabinet. He marveled at the simplistic box in which Dumbledore chose to keep something so precious. He supposed that Dumbledore would not have deemed it necessary to conceal or enchant the box for protection due to it's whereabouts or did he perceive that Snape would strive to keep _it_, and all who entered this school safe from Lord Voldermort. Maybe it was his blind faith in that the _Boy Who Lived_ could defeat Lord Voldermort which made Dumbledore so lapsed about his secrets after death.

Voldermort glided over to the desk and placed the tiny chest next to the leather bag then looked up to the ceiling, drifting into deep thought. How old now would Amelia's son, the man he must find, be? Would he know his true heritage and if so, why hadn't he searched him out already?

He closed his eyes, meditating harder on the task. Amelia suggested that he, Lord Voldermort, might not be so happy when he found her son. Surely this meant that he knew the truth; meant that he would be someone formidable to deal with. That malicious look, which so resembled a smile, had returned to Voldermort's face.

Voldermort opened his eyes then peered at Dumbledore's portrait, which was currently vacant, then remembered, unintentionally, how Dumbledore had once tried to convince him to forgive the muggles at the orphanage for how they had treated him. Disgust and anger filled Voldermort at the memory, but then subsided, almost immediately, when he thought of Dumbledore's fate, and the fate of all those who had supported him. The muggles would soon be in their proper place and Lord Voldermort would lead the wizards out of the shadows and into their true place of power.

Descending the spiraling staircase from the Headmaster's office, Voldermort entered the school. As he had requested, not another soul was present as he passed floor after floor till he reached the entrance to the dungeons. Even the ghosts were staying hidden from view, watching from the shadows, for Voldermort could sense those things invisible and there was none present. All was still, except for the sound of the crackling torches and the distant hissing of rushing water coming from the dungeons below.

Slowly, he descended the steps leading to the dungeons and to his old common room. It had been many years since he had traversed this way; the chill of the air, mixture of shadow and light, suddenly brought him to recall memories he had once forgot. His eyes gleamed red as he thought of all the times he and his band of fervent followers had descended these steps, listening to him lay out his vision of how the world should be.

Voldermort passed a broom cupboard, in doing so recalled another memory; the moment he first desired Amelia Black. She had been leaning up against the cupboard door, talking to her friends, as he and his followers returned from another one of Professor Slughorn's parties. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen; perfect in every way. He knew then that she must be a pure-blood, for no half-blood could be so radiant. From that moment on he desired to know everything about her, and he would.

He reached the hidden door to his old common room, which swung open immediately upon his arrival, thus allowing him to enter without breaking step. The common room was almost as he remembered it. So many memories and yet there were only a few that Voldermort required now.

His memories were the key to completing his task; he, Lord Voldermort alone, knew of Amelia's darkest secrets, for she had confided in him during many a discreet rendezvous, during which his desires for her were fulfilled. He had despised her and her brother, Orion, for their opportunities they had growing up in an all wizard family, knowing of their true heritage, while he, Lord Voldermort, had to suffer in a filthy muggle orphanage.

Voldermort knew that she sometimes mistook his rage with her for passion and he did not contradict, for if Amelia had known how he truly felt she would have rejected his advances. Being with her brought both solace and an appertain to the wizarding world. She was the only thing that made him feel as though he belonged, that is, until he discovered his true heritage; the heritage of Salazar Slytherin, which led him to uncover the Chamber of Secrets, and all that laid therein. After that, she was no longer necessary but merely valuable in an entertaining way, when he desired her.

His snake-like nostrils flared as he thought of how she had pursued him after he left the school, all the way to those lonely woods in Albania. But _what a fool_ he had been! Why else had she done so! Of coarse it was love, not for him, not Lord Voldermort, but for that which she then carried inside her. He, Lord Voldermort, had been so resolved to finding Ravenclaw's Diadem that he overlooked the obvious! He had presumed that she had pursued him, just as the Bloody Baron had sought Helena Ravenclaw to those same woods. Amelia had brought him the greatest treasure; far more valuable than a mere horcrux; far more powerful!

At this thought, Voldermort's rage broke in a fury of wandless magic; mirrors and foe glasses alike shattered about the Slytherin common room, the largest window that looked out into the depths of the lake creaked ominously, as the fireplace roared to life beside him sending sparks shooting across the room. The paramount of her betrayal, it's magnitude, flooded him with hatred. In that moment, Voldermort knew that if her son would not join him, as he should, then he must die.

* * *

_His grey eyes shone and twinkled, and his usually pale face was flushed and animated. The fire burned brightly, and the soft radiance of the incandescent lights in the lilies of silver caught the bubbles that flashed and passed in our glasses..._

Gregory closed the leather bound book he was reading and looked up at the clock on the wall, which read fifteen till twelve. He wondered how many would show. For the past two days he had pondered whom within the Order he could trust beyond all doubt, but alas there was none that came to mind. All those within the Order that he could trust were now dead, either in combat or by execution. There were Order members that survived yet many questioned by what means and he was sure that they questioned him too, therefore he must look to his past for those he could trust.

There was a solitary knock at the front door. Gregory withdrew his wand, keeping it concealed beneath his robes, and proceeded into the hallway from the kitchen, approaching the entrance to the flat. As he touched the door with his index finger, a hundred tiny metallic clicks sounded before the door swung inward. On the other side, peering at a piece of parchment clutched in his hand, stood a wizard with long blond hair braided into a pony tail wearing black robes, bowler hat, and carrying a thin walking cane.

"Is this the residence of Gregory Smith?" asked the wizard in a stuffy tone, not looking away from his parchment.

"It is." replied Gregory.

"Might I come in?" asked the wizard.

"What be your business?" asked Gregory, as he studied his visitor.

"The Ministry has ordered that all residences be open to random searches to weed out the remaining Undesirables." said the wizard still not looking up from his parchment.

"Please, come in then, for I have nothing to hide." replied Gregory and motioned the visitor inside.

Once the wizard had entered, Gregory closed the door behind him. The wizard removed his bowler hat, dusting off it's top, then turned to face Gregory, pointing his walking cane at Gregory's chest.

"If you have nothing to hide, then tell me why an old wolfganger like you is sending out invites to the likes of me?" said the wizard, an evil grin crossing his face.

Gregory laughed, "I should have known! Duncan Stewart, you old trickster!"

Gregory pushed the cane aside and embraced his old friend, for he had not seen Duncan for many years. Laughing still, Gregory motioned for Duncan to follow him to the kitchen. When they turned into the kitchen, Gregory received his second surprise for five cloaked and hooded individuals stood waiting for them. The intruders lowered their hoods to reveal the most welcomed site Gregory had seen in a long, long time. As he beckoned them to join him at the table, his heart longed nothing more than to spend the rest of the day catching up and recounting forgotten misadventures, but there was business to tend to.

As he looked down the table he could not imagine a more diverse lot. Alice MacDuirbhn, a beautiful woman with long black hair and hazel eyes was a Herbologist, specializing in the control of dangerous magical plants; Diarmid O'Neil, a stocky man with short red hair and green eyes was now a Dragonologist; Malcolm Campbell, a broad shouldered man with wavy brown hair and blue eyes was a Curse Breaker for Gringots bank; Cailen Stewart, a thin man with blond hair and blue eyes, his brother, Duncan Stewart, also a thin man with long blond hair and brown eyes and lastly, sitting at the opposing end of the table was Colin Fraser, a massive man with coal black hair, beard, and burnt brown eyes, all three were Ministry officials until _You Know Who's_ rise to power.

"So what fun things are in store for us at Madam Alba's birthday here on Swagger Street?" asked Cailen Stewart.

Madam Alba was Gregory and his mate's, the wolfgangers, old way to communicate with each other that there was trouble. Swagger Street meant to meet at Gregory's home. He was relieved to know that his mischievous mates had not forgotten the codes they had used while in school to communicate in secret.

"Thank you all for coming my friends." said Gregory. "Times being so uncertain these days, I know how much risk was involved for all of you. Before we go any further, I ask we take the Oath of Secrecy before proceeding any further."

Without a word, Colin Fraser stood up then extended his right hand.

"Thank you Colin." said Gregory, as he stood and withdrew his wand.

"Huh, if you hadn't I was going to suggest it. Makes it easier if I choose to forget what you have to say." replied Colin.

The rest of Gregory's mates stood then extended their right arms across the table, each grasping the wrist of another until they formed a circle. Gregory placed the tip of his wand over the center of the circle.

In unison, the six began to speak in a sing song manner, "With this vow, we now take, we solemnly swear to keep the secrets proclaimed today. Should we attempt to break this vow, memories of today will be forgotten forevermore." Golden bands weaved about the arms and hands then vanished, as though they were absorbed into their skin. At that moment, the group released each other then sat back down.

"I presume this is going to be a, _let's fight You Know Who together_, kind of gathering, isn't it?" asked Colin.

"So glad to see things aren't still awkward between you two." said Duncan Stewart in a mock tone of relief.

"Yes Colin, it will be." replied Gregory, ignoring Duncan's remarks. "If this does not interest you or you feel that it will be too dangerous, you may leave."

"Don't flatter yourself Gregory, I just wanted to make sure you weren't waisting my time." replied Colin, arms folded, a smirk curling his lips.

Still standing, Gregory placed his hands on the table then addressed group, "My friends, you have known me longer than any others, yet I have kept something from you. I have lied to you."

"In what way?" asked Alice MacDuirbhn, leaning closer to see him properly.

"All of you knew my mother but the man you knew as my father was my step-father." said Gregory, sighing as he continued. "My real father requested that I take the name of Smith to protect me."

At this, Colin leaned in towards the table, placing his elbows upon it, to hear Gregory's secret with a greedy look on his face.

"My real name is" Gregory paused as though he had to physically pull the next words from his chest. "Gregory Dumbledore."

"I knew it!" said Colin, pounding the table. "Your father was Albus Dumbledore!"

Gregory did not answer Colin but simply sighed then looked down at the table. He wasn't ashamed of this yet the secret was something he had carried for all his life without sharing it with any but one before, whom was now dead. Saying it aloud again reminded him of her.

"Why confide in us now?" asked Cailen Stewart.

"I need you to know why I fight, why I joined the Order of the Phoenix, and why I cannot give up." said Gregory lifting his head and looking at them with fire in his eyes. "This is not just for the wizarding world that I continue, but so that the work my father did whilst still alive was not in vain."

"All those mysterious disappearances at school, you were meeting him, weren't you?" asked Colin, a satisfied look on his face.

"Of coarse he was!" said Diarmid O'Neil in a gruff tone. "Or are ye just catching up, Colin?"

"So what you say we do, Gregory?" asked Duncan.

"I say we take it to _You Know Who_ and his followers in the streets, traveling in stealth then striking at the opportune times. This way, all will know that there are still those that defy him!" said Gregory, shaking his fist.

"Sounds grand, yet how do we accomplish this without being hunted like dogs and our families slaughtered because of it?" asked Malcolm Campbell. "My family is no stranger to beheading, but when avoidable, we so choose."

"A goblin by the name of Gormoth will provide us with the answer. He is preparing masks, similar to the ones that the Death Eaters once wore. They will provide us anonymity, along with a few little extras, thus protecting those that we care for." replied Gregory, settling into his chair.

Gregory was pleased with the looks of eagerness that filled the faces of those that sat with him.

"We need a name for our group to show solidarity." said Cailen.

"So what would we call us?" asked Alice. "Wolfgangers would give us away and no one trusts the Order of the Phoenix any longer."

"I say, let the blood of those who have fallen and will fall be upon me and my father." said Gregory. "I say, we do this in the name that all still know and _You Know Who_ feared. I say, we call our group, Dumbledore's Army."

Colin stood up and everyone turned to look at him. "I say, break out the fire whiskey, we drink to Dumbledore's Army!"

"Very well, my friend, we will drink." replied Gregory smoothly, bringing his hands together in front of his face, as if to pray. "_Then_, _we begin_."


	3. Combat And Complot

**The Last Great Secret**

**Chapter Three: Combat And Complot**

"What are we waiting for?" hissed Malcolm, crouched down behind two barrels beside the Owl Emporium in Diagon Alley.

"We're waiting for the signal, remember?" whispered Duncan, crouched next to Malcolm.

"Would you two please shut the bloody hell up?" grunted Colin, also crouched down but behind the two.

The sun was coming up, rays of light shone upon the roof tops, burning away the mist, reflecting off of the upper windows of the shops and stores that lined Diagon Alley. Many of the shop keepers were starting to prepare for the day by setting out curbside signs or raising the window blinds to reveal their displays of goods within. There was no happiness in their bustle; no sign of pride or enthusiasm; all hope was gone.

Four cloaked and eloquently dressed wizards were walking up the alley from the Leaky Cauldron, making their way towards Gingots. They were Ministry Officials, patrolling the streets before the morning commuters began to arrive to assure no street dwellers were loitering. Many of the witches and wizards that had been stripped of their wands had taken to panhandling for food in Diagon Alley, hoping to just maybe hear word of a family member or friend that had disappeared.

The four wizards spotted someone lying under a battered and torn cloak next to the window display of Quality Quidditch Supplies. They approached the figure, not even bothering to draw their wands.

"Get up _you_!" demanded one of the four as he tugged at the cloak covering the figure.

The figure grasped at the cloak, as to remain concealed from view, a young woman's leg slipping out before being jerked back beneath the cloak.

"Hey now! What have we here!" shouted the largest of the four with delight as he grasped the cloak and ripped it from the woman.

Their delight however, turned to shock as they retreated backwards slowly in unison. The woman had rolled over, then leapt to her feet, holding a wand which was now trained upon the four, wearing a black hooded cloak and a golden mask that covered the whole of her face, except for the eyes, mouth, and nostrils. Embossed upon the mask's forehead was the symbol of the phoenix.

"Not what you were expecting boys?" jeered Alice from beneath the mask.

Another hooded and masked individual appeared from the nearby adjoining alley way, wand pointing towards the four. At that moment, the Ministry wizards made their move, casting curses at their masked opponents. Alice and Gregory deflected the curses as Diarmid and Cailen joined the fight by way of the Leaky Cauldron, flanking the Ministry wizards. Shop owners hid behind doors or sprinted for cover as the eight battled in the street.

Three guards came running down the cobbled street from Gingots to assist the Ministry wizards.

"Now!" cried Gregory.

Colin, Duncan, and Malcolm leapt from their hidden position, quickly overtaking the Gringots guards. Two of the Ministry wizards fell quickly, while their counterparts continued to bob and weave, showing their skill.

"Fall back!" cried Gregory and the others did so at once.

Gregory deflected a curse then slashed with his wand, causing the air to ripple, blasting the two remaining Ministry wizards completely off their feet, their wands dancing on the cobbled stones.

"Damn, G!" said Cailen looking at Gregory. "You might want to lead with that next time."

Gregory ignored this but instead addressed the group, "Excellent work. Now let's see what else these four have been up to."

"You have no idea what hell you just unleashed, do you?" groaned one of the Ministry wizards, still lying on the street.

"Let's see, four dead and three still alive, counting mister chatty there." said Duncan, assessing the carnage.

Gregory knelt down beside the conscious wizard, grasping him by the hair. "I have a message for your master and I want you to deliver it."

The wizard spat on Gregory's mask, which purged itself of the spit almost immediately, burning away as if on a hot surface.

"Tell your master that this behavior will no longer be tolerated and that we will punish all who serve him." said Gregory through gritted teeth.

"And whom shall I tell him requested to die?" asked the wizard with a snarl.

Gregory grinned, "Dumbledore's Army sends their greeting. And just so you do not forget, I'll send you with a reminder."

Gregory pointed his wand at the wizard's left arm. The wizard's scream wrenched the air as Gregory magically carved the letters 'DA' into the wizard's forearm, blood dripping onto the street. The wizard gasped for breath in pain, then Gregory sank his fist into the man's face, knocking him out cold.

"Very nice." said Colin, approving of Gregory's behavior.

"And terrifying." said Alice as she sorted some parchment she had found in one of the wizard's vest pocket.

"What do you have there?" asked Gregory, standing up and walking over to her.

"Well, it looks like these four have been pulling double duty." said Alice.

"What do you mean?" asked Duncan as the others joined them, having finished binding the two unconscious guards.

"Can we catch up later? It will be raining Ministry Aurors any minute." said Cailen.

"He's right, let's get back to headquarters." said Gregory.

Gregory looked about him, shop keepers and owners stood staring, some smiling, but none said a word. They did not have to. With a nod, Gregory and the rest of Dumbledore's Army dissaparated.

* * *

Snape swallowed hard, anger flooding his face. He paced back and forth in front of the kneeling man who continued to clutch his left arm. Snape stopped, reached down and grasped the man's face below the chin with one hand, lifting it till they were eye to eye.

"Tell me again!" demanded Snape, his black eyes boring into the man's fearful brown eyes.

"My Lord, they overtook us before we knew what was going on! They called themselves Dumbledore's Army." croaked the man. "They said they would punish all who served the Dark Lord."

"They didn't surprise you, they tricked you!" replied Snape, shoving the man to the floor.

"No! They..." started the man but was silenced by a kick to the stomach from another wizard.

"You cannot lie to me, nor to the Dark Lord." said Snape coldly.

The man screamed in terror, "No! Please!", as another wizard levitated him out of the room upside down, his arms flailing uselessly, the door slamming behind them.

"What will you tell the Dark Lord, Severus?" asked a large wizard sitting at a nearby conference table.

Snape studied the problem for a moment as he looked about the room. The map on the wall showed all the places in Britain that they deemed settled in orange. Tiny dots magically floated, showing key positions of where each of Voldermort's followers were stationed. As Snape stared at the map, he thought of how Voldermort himself never showed on the map nor would he ever.

"Rookwood, we will tell the Dark Lord nothing. We will deal with this ourselves." said Snape.

Rookwood made to protest but Snape cut across him.

"The Dark Lord is busy, very busy, and does not wish to be disturbed. We will inform him of this after we have dealt with it." said Snape. "Now go and find this "Dumbledore's Army". We must prepare something special for them."

The greasy-haired Rookwood rose from the table, gave Snape a dark glare, bowed, then left the room, slamming the door behind him. Snape glared after him, thinking about this _Dumbledore's Army_. All members of Potters old school gang that called themselves Dumbledore's Army had been dealt with. Could they somehow be the creation of Dumbledore himself? If so, was there another portrait of Dumbledore and could the connection be traced? The Granger girl had taken Professor Black's portrait but Snape had not cared to try and trace it for that was when he was spying for Dumbledore; when he was still loyal to Lily's memory. Now he must find out, for his own sake if it was possible.

* * *

"So what does those parchments tell us?" asked Colin as he took a sip of fire whiskey.

"It's looks as though the band of merry Ministry workers were torturing abandoned witches and wizards by day and transporting prisoners to Azkaban by night." said Alice as she spread the parchments out on the table.

"Looks like prisoner lists." said Duncan leaning over to get a look but dripping fire whiskey on one of the parchments instead.

Alice glared at Duncan who shrunk back into his chair. Gregory had stepped over to the basin to wash up. His flat was a decent headquarters, he thought, but they needed something much more secure.

"Any names of interest?" asked Gregory as he dried his face on a small towel.

"Some, but it's the initialed ones that I question." replied Alice.

"Like whom?" asked Malcolm.

"That's just it, I dunno who they are." replied Alice. "For example, here's a G.B.O. on this page and a B.W.L. on another, but no reference to whom they are."

"Maybe we should have tortured them first, before we killed them." said Colin thoughtfully.

"None of us aimed to kill anyone." said Cailen. "It just happened..."

Suddenly, there was a loud _craack_ near the kitchen door. Every wand pointed at the tiny figure, now trembling in terror behind a nearby rack.

"Winky? Is that you?" asked Gregory.

"Yes, Master Smith!" squeeked the House Elf. "Winky means no harm!"

Everyone lowered their wands except for Gregory, who kept his trained on the tiny elf.

"Why are you here, Winky?" asked Gregory.

"All the House Elves were cast out of the school. Winky had no place to go so Winky returned to the school and found Dumblydore's painting. He told Winky to come here!" replied the trembling tiny elf.

At this, Gregory lowered his wand too. The tiny elf still trembled violently, not sure whether to stay or to leave.

"Winky, is it?" asked Alice.

The tiny elf nodded, peering about the rack to see her.

"Why did they cast out all of the House Elves from the school?" asked Alice.

"Winky does not know. Winky was in the Hogwarts kitchen when Professor Snape ordered all House Elves to leave the castle. He said that _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ requested to be alone. Winky did as she was told." replied the tiny House Elf.

The group exchanged dark glances, knowing that nothing good could come from this.

"We cannot have a Hogwarts House Elf here!" declared Colin. "Winky here, is only loyal to the school. When they call her back, she must go, taking all she sees and hears with her."

"Winky is not a Hogwarts House Elf." replied Gregory. "Dumbledore allowed Winky to reside at the school after her master freed her."

At this the tiny House Elf whimpered, hiding her face from view.

"Even better, a free House Elf." said Colin sarcastically. "What was I worried about."

"Winky is loyal to Dumblydore." said Winky trembling but defiant. "Dumblydore told Winky to stay here and to do all that Master Smith told Winky to."

"If Dumbledore trusts Winky, then so do I." said Gregory sternly. "Winky, you can start by washing the upstairs bed clothes."

Winky beamed with delight before disappearing with a loud _craack_.

"You are just like him, aren't you?" said Colin, glaring at Gregory.

"I don't see anything wrong with the House Elf staying." said Alice. "Besides, this place could do with a good scrubbing."

Duncan snorted with derisive laughter, Cailen elbowing him stiffly in the ribs. The mood in the room lifted slightly, though Gregory was still frowning; Colin's comment had struck a nerve.

"So what do you make of the House Elf saying that _You Know Who_ wanted Hogwarts all to himself?" asked Diarmid, emptying seven wands onto the table from inside his cloak.

"Nothing good, I'm sure." said Malcolm, as he examined one of the captured wands. "What should we do with these?"

"Of the four wands which their masters died, leave them secretly for deserving witches and wizards who will be discreet enough as not to display them in public." said Gregory. "As for the three wands whose previous masters survived, we will keep them in case we happen to loose a wand in combat."

"Gregory, you realize that their going to be ready for us next time, especially after that little message of yours." said Duncan darkly.

Gregory's frown changed to a dangerous grin, "I'm counting on it, Duncan. I'm counting on it."

Colin returned Gregory's smile however, the others looked concerned.

* * *

"Please!" sobbed a man lying prostrate on the floor. "Have mercy! I have a wife, children, PLEASE!"

"Spare me!" hissed Voldermort, looking down at the man. "Tell me what I wish to know!"

"That's all there is! I swear!" pleaded the man. "The records state that she came here looking for a family to adopt her unborn child. There is no record of an adoption ever being completed."

The man began crying in earnest now. Voldermort felt nothing but disgust at the sight of this weak, pathetic excuse for a wizard. There was a flash of green light and the man sobbed no more. No one but he, Lord Voldermort, could know his purpose. As he stepped over the lifeless body, he was sure that the children would surely be better off now without this weak influence.

The plaque on the wall of the office read, _Placement Office: Established 1899_. Why hadn't Voldermort's mother brought him here? Why had she chose a muggle orphanage if this department of the Ministry had existed? She was weak, thought Voldermort. Unworthy of her heritage, lusting after a mere muggle. These thoughts made him sick, the very reason he had cast away his filthy muggle name.

He exited the office into the hallway where the Ministry was just beginning to buzz to life, as witches and wizards began showing up work. Fortune had smiled on Lord Voldermort, to find one in so early.

One of the lifts clanged to a halt as the disembodied voice rang out, "Level Nine, the Department of Magical Cooperation, incorporating the Magical Examination Committee, Placement Services, and Muggle-Born Excuse Committee."

A plump wizard exited the lift, humming to himself, but stumbled to a complete halt, his eyes wide, visibly scared.

Voldermort's eyes narrowed, "Where might I find Dolores Umbridge's office?" he hissed.

"L-l-level One." stammered the wizard.

He glided past the trembling man and into the lift. He closed his eyes as the lift rattled towards Level One. It stopped once at Level Three, though no person dared to join him, then finally arrived at Level One. Voldermort exited the lift, gliding up the hallway towards the offices to find Dolores Umbridge.

"My Lord!" exclaimed Pius Thicknesse as he stepped out of his office directly into Voldermort's path.

"Good morning Pius. Have Dolores join me in your office and do not keep me waiting." said Voldermort, deciding that Thicknesse's office would much better suit him.

"Yes, my Lord! Straight away!" replied Thicknesse as he hurried up the hallway to fetch Umbridge.

Voldermort glided into the Minister's office and thought of how much better Severus will serve as Minister than that imperiused fool. He took a seat at the grand desk then waited for them to arrive, meditating on the place he must go next. Moments later, Thicknesse and Umbridge entered the office ever so cautiously.

"Please have a seat, Dolores. You too Pius." said Voldermort as he motioned to the chairs that stood before them.

They obeyed immediately, Umbridge staring at Voldermort apprehensively while Thicknesse only looked at the floor. He examined them for a moment, his red eyes piercing them, before speaking.

"How go the tasks I set before you both?" asked Voldermort, leaning back in the high back chair.

"My Lord, the International Confederation Of Wizards is almost completely under our control. The Supreme Mugwump, William Croad, has been successfully Imperiused. We will soon control every Ministry in the world." said Thicknesse, not looking at Voldermort.

"What say you Dolores? How goes our little project?" asked Voldermort silkily.

"My Lord, we are making good progress. His will is strong however, he is starting to bend." replied Umbridge in a happy tone, her toad-like face looking expectant of praise.

"When will he be ready to perform the task?" asked Voldermort as he now examined his own wand.

Umbridge eyed the Elder wand nervously as she answered, "Soon, my Lord, very soon."

"I, Lord Voldermort, asked you, Pius, to increase the number of Dementors at our command, yet I have heard nothing. REPORT!" hissed Voldermort.

"M-my Lord," stammered Thicknesse "as you commanded, we have successfully increased their numbers to twenty thousand, all awaiting your command."

"Good. Order four thousand, each, to Norway, Germany, New Zealand, and Bulgaria. Have them prey upon every town they find." instructed Voldermort. "When their Ministries, overwhelmed and desperate, plead for assistance we will do so, requesting temporary Ministerial control. The International Confederation Of Wizards will, of coarse, support this fully. Use the remaining four thousand Dementors to secure a hold here in Britain on those areas that still trouble us."

"I do not like to make visits in order to receive answers." said Voldermort coldly. "I wish to know without asking. You will report to Severus all new developments in these matters." Voldermort rose from his chair and stared a the two. "Should I have to come here again, I will be most displeased. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Lord." answered both Umbridge and Thicknesse in unison.

"Do not fail me." hissed Voldermort so quietly and yet so dangerously that Umbridge visibly shuttered.

Voldermort then rose up into the air, stretched his arms wide, then disappeared, as smoke on the wind. Umbridge and Thicknesse sat petrified at this, for no other being they knew of could perform such magic while inside the Ministry.


End file.
